


Terminal 3

by fishysama



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: M/M, Pining, Slurs, i guess, nothing else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 16:30:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13662873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishysama/pseuds/fishysama
Summary: Please fall asleep so I can take pictures of youAnd hang them in my room,So when I'll wake up, I'll be like,"Yeah, everything's alright.”-ambiguous gay pining and not much else. haha. why am i posting this.





	Terminal 3

Thin, pale skin. He hadn't shaved in the past week, so the scruff of a beard grew on his cheeks, neck, chin. His jaw was moving rhythmically, the lips forming the words to something the taxi driver put on the radio. Pop garbage. Ian just noticed this now, but Max’s lips are thick like a girl’s should be, plump. Perturbed by the thought, he snaps his eyes to the floor and pinches his thigh through his sweatpants. A bit of pain to make him “wake up,” like this whole thing was a dream. Like Max was a dream. Cautiously, he peers up at him, swallowing hard. He _is_ a dream: mouthing the lyrics to some shitty Bruno Mars song.

The light suddenly hits his face; he squints but continues to study the asphalt as it runs beneath the tires. He looks kind of cute, with his eyes crinkled like that. His overgrown eyebrows furrow a bit too, creating creases around his forehead. The light leaves his face the taxi enters a tunnel. Under the dim light, Ian can see a glint of emerald in his right iris, only noticeable if you look at it in a certain way, under a certain light. His lashes perfectly framed his eyes behind the glasses, curling up in a feminine way. _God…_

Ian wants to feel Max. He craves to brush his fingertips over his perfect bone structure, over that perfect, thin, pale skin, and run his hands through the boy’s hair, kiss his neck, feel him in the wrong yet the right places, every nook and cranny. And he knows all of this isn’t possible, and that it _can’t_ happen, but fuck, he desires it, he pines for it. He wishes it wasn’t “another few months” or “next year,” he wishes it was now, in the moment.

He pinches his thigh again, **_stop._ **

 

His eyes are truly beautiful.

 

A mischievous grin appears on Max’s lips. Without looking at the culprit, he quips, “What’re ya staring at, faggot?”

Ian's eyes shift quickly to the seat in front of him flustered, “T-The window.”

He teases with that gaudy Australian accent, “Oh? ‘S that so?”

“You’re an asshole, Max,” Ian mutters under his breath, changing his focus to the window beside him, “I’ll miss you, cunt.”

“What?”

“...Nothin.”

The billboard on Ian’s side of the road reads “Entering Terminal 3.” He leans on the window and swallows, thumbing the fabric of his sweatpants.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you guys for all the sweet comments on this!! <3 <3
> 
> [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/thanksily/) | [tumblr](https://juroguro.tumblr.com/)


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